


Dick Move

by evilicious



Series: Nothing Personal. [2]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Pancakes, shameless flirting, ya'll mind if I shimmy on into this fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:04:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilicious/pseuds/evilicious
Summary: Shido fucks up and Akechi has a pretty terrible experience at IHOP.





	Dick Move

**Author's Note:**

> No clue what I'm doing tbh

                Akechi blinked a couple times. Then he squinted and titled his head slightly to the left. Three more blinks before he hummed in thought and straightened his neck before blinking and squinting some more. There had to be _something_ he was missing, some tiny detail he had overlooked.  The detective scrolled back up to revisit the previous two messages Shido sent, silently mouthing the words as he desperately tried to fit the pieces together and complete the puzzle.

                **SHIDON’T** [18:45]: U up 2 git down????

                At first read, the message appeared to be web lingo for ‘Are you up to get down?’ but Akechi wasn’t so sure. Up to get down? What did that _mean?_ ‘Up’ and ‘down’ were obviously points of interest as they were opposites as well as the only words in the message spelled correctly. There had to be some significance there, so Akechi filed the words away for later before moving on to decode the second message.

                **SHIDON’T** [18:45]: bcuz i sure am hahaha

                He sure was _what?_ Shido was testing him. That much was a given and Akechi refused to fail.

                Utterly stumped, but determined to unravel the true meaning, the teen detective scrolled down to the image attached to the most recent text. He double-tapped the picture until it filled his phone screen.

                _U up 2 git down???? bcuz i sure am hahaha_

What message was Shido trying to convey? Akechi squinted and held the phone an arm-length away from his face, hoping the distance would give him more clarity.

                _U_ up _2 git_ down? _?—_

Akechi’s eyes widened in realization, then dilated in horror.

                Shido’s penis. That’s what he was looking at. His phone screen was filled with Masayoshi Shido’s fully-erect, bulging _dick._

                It was the first image of male genitals he had seen outside of biology textbooks and his own body, and neither of those included spider veins or hairy, wrinkly testicles sagging beneath them. Akechi felt like he’d lost something, something _important_ , as that shakily photographed donger was forever engraved inside his retinas. It could have been _any_ phallus that forcefully ripped away his penis-viewing virginity (That is most _certainly_ a thing that exists and Goro was _not_ just overreacting.), but nope. His previously pure mind had been deflowered by Shido—no, his _father’s_ low-quality dick pic and now Akechi wouldn’t be able to look at the man in person without being blinded by PTSD flashbacks starring the same disgusting cock that impregnated his dead mother.

 The detective screamed, flung the phone across the room and _bolted_ , his feet carrying him to LeBlanc where he spent the next two hours doing something, _anything_ to distract himself from what he’d just seen. ‘Anything’ turned out to be drinking four cups of coffee and idling away an hour trying to coax Hero-kun’s cat out of the attic with half a muffin and some cat-calling tactics he’d read about in one of the magazines littering Shido’s office until Boss caught him and asked if he was okay. To which he straightened his tie, flipped his hair and shot the owner an academy-ward-winning smile and a ‘yes, of course’ before returning to his usual seat at the bar and proceeding to solve an entire crossword puzzle book. He probably would have stayed longer because that phone book started looking incredibly interesting and Akechi couldn’t _truly_ claim to be well-read until he’d finished it, but Boss was closing up shop and Protagonist-kun’s cat was glaring at him in such a way that made it incredibly clear that the young detective had long since overstayed his welcome.

                Akechi swallowed audibly, the bitterness in his mouth having nothing to do with the black coffee he forced himself to drink to appear more adult-like. He couldn’t go home now. Not with that-that _disturbing imagery_ still filling his cellphone screen.

                A couple minutes before the incident, his phone battery was 98% charged. Akechi often used his phone to reference pictures or files for cases for long periods of time, so he kept the auto-screen off feature disabled and used the lowest brightness setting available. If he wasn’t browsing the web, his phone boasted a thirty-hour battery life. Which meant that, if he went home now, there’d be no escape from the clutches of Shido’s shi-dong.

                Maybe he could go to Sae’s place? He’d slept over there several times before, when he still sucked up to her and she still thought of him as adorable baby-brother. They were still on speaking terms, though, and he mooched food off her on a regular basis, so he wouldn’t be imposing too much by crashing on her couch, right? But she probably wouldn’t appreciate him just barging in without calling, _if_ she was even home in the first place. And if she wasn’t…. Goro shuddered to think of what would happen if Sae came home to find him alone in her house with her darling baby sister.

                Or, maybe he could break into a public library and stay there for a few hours? He’d done that before, twice, after he finished the first and second novels in the _Twilight_ saga and _needed_ to know what happened next so badly that he couldn’t wait until 9 the next morning to check out the book. But, last time, he’d accidently walked in on a group of Girl Scouts that, for _whatever_ reason, decided to spend the night at a library instead of going on a camping trip. One of them freaked out and blasted him with glitter hairspray which didn’t wash out for _weeks_. So maybe the library was a no-go.

                Goro Akechi was suddenly hit with the realization that he’d never had any friends to have a library sleepover with.

                “Hey, kid,” Sojiro snapped him back to reality. “That’s the third time I called you. Is there a reason you don’t want to go home?”  
                Akechi’s shoulders stiffened for a second, before he adjusted his body language. “Oh, no. I’m just procrastinating on homework, is all.”

                “Really?” Boss gave him a look. The Look™ that parents shoot their offspring right before laying down the law, enforcing curfew and changing the WiFi password. Akechi didn’t have parents (Shido didn’t count. Sperm donor, yes. Parent? Not so much.)—at least, not long enough to be familiar with The Look™-- but even he recognized, on a subconscious level, that Sojiro wasn’t playing around.

                “Y-yes, sir.” Did he just stutter? No, that must have been a typo because Goro Akechi was never anything less than charmingly charismatic, and charmingly charismatic has perfect punctuation, spelling and grammar and doesn’t add extra unnecessary syllables to words.

                “Look, brat. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’re a good kid--“ Those two words had Akechi’s chest swelling with some infuriating feeling of joy that he refused to acknowledge. “-but mostly you’re my most regular costumer,” Oh. Of course. Sojiro couldn’t afford to lose his business. Bye-bye, good feeling. “and in the food service industry, a change in behavior can lead to a change in spending.”

                “Thanks for your concern, but it’s really no big deal.” Goro flashed his television smile. Sojiro was completely unimpressed, and, behind him, Main Character-kun stopped washing dishes and _stared_ , his glasses making his unblinking eyes look big and sparkly as they bore a hole through the detective’s chest and mined out his fragile heart.

                …had Protagonist-sama been there the whole time? How had he failed to notice him? Akechi gulped nervously. Before he quite realized what he was doing, Cosmo’s Number-One Teenage Heartthrob (for the month of June) found himself verbally addressing his feelings for the first time in his life.

                “Someone texted me an, _erm,_ crotch shot and I’m uncomfortable going home until my phone battery dies.”

                “Oh, that’s rich.” Boss snorted. “…wait, you’re serious?” He coughed obnoxiously to cover a snicker. “Akira, watch the shop. I need to step out for a bit.”

                The second the door clicked shut, Sojiro’s muffled laughter filled the near-empty café and Akechi was left trying to avoid making eye contact with the other boy who looked like he desperately wanted to make eye contact with him.

                “Something you want to ask me, Kurusu-kun?”

                “Is there something wrong with dick?”

                “I beg your pardon..?”

                “Do you have a problem with penis objectively or do you just not like being surprised by a dick pic?”

                “I… What?”

                “If, say, a _woman_ sent you a picture of her genitals, would it bother you as much? Or was it just the penis?”

                “I don’t have a problem with—“ Akechi blushed. “I… no… Isn’t that kind of thing a little _personal?_ ”

                “It’s the age of the Internet,” Protagonist-kun shrugged. “You’re telling me the Great Defective Prince has never gotten a dick pic before?”

                “No, I haven’t.”

                “How about some tits and ass from some of your _lady_ fans?”

                 “Of course not!” Akechi was even more outraged.

                “Ah, so it’s your first time.” The barista flashed a shit-eating smirk that clashed magnificently with his otherwise lethargic demeanor. “I wonder if you’ll be this flustered after seeing your _second_ dick.”

                The detective’s eyes widened in horror at the implication. “You… You’re a _minor!_ That’s child pornography! _”_

                “I never said it’d be _my_ dick,” Main Squeeze leaned over the counter, eyes glinting with something _fierce._ “And if it was, it’d only be considered CP if I sent you a picture or video. Why would I do that when I’d much rather seen your reaction in person?”

                 Thankfully, the bell chimed and Sojiro returned before Hero-kun got the chance to flirt the pure detective to death. The older man cut right to the chase.

                “How long until your phone dies?”

                Akechi checked his watch. “Twenty-seven hours.”

                “Now, don’t take this the wrong way. I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, but since you’re my most regular costumer, it’s in my best interest to help you,” Sighing excessively, the owner gestured to the door. “We’ll take the car. Let’s go.”

                “No, you don’t have to—“

                “Look, son. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you’ll go home and the sooner I can lock up shop and go to sleep.”

                Well, there was really no arguing with that logic.

 

 

                “I’m really grateful for you coming all the way out here just for me, Sakura-san, but why are _they_ here?”  

Futaba grinned. “I’ve always wanted to visit the apartment of a _celebrity._ Also, congrats on seeing your first nude.” She sniffled, pretended to wipe tears from her eyes. “It took a while, but the guy who spends way too much time loitering outside my foster brother’s bedroom is finally growing up. _”_ The former-shut-in nudged Akechi in the ribs playfully. Or she tried to, at least, but with the disadvantage of being short, her elbow just kind of forcefully lodged itself in his stomach.  It was entirely accidental and not on purpose at all. Right.

                Beside her, Dirty Crime Boi shrugged nonchalantly in that way of his that conveyed _absolutely nothing_ and left the meaning entirely up to interpretation. Akechi hated it when he pulled this whole ‘silent’ charade because he knew for a fact that behind those oversized glasses was an analytical brain that was observing his every move and probably undressing him if their conversation from earlier was any indication.

                Behind them, Sojiro simply grunted, focusing his attention on the daunting task of finding a cellphone in the cleanest bedroom he’d ever come in contact with. “Hey, Pleasant Boy! Where’s this phone of yours? Your room’s so orderly I can’t find anything.”

                 “It’s right there,” Akechi walked into his apartment, shielding his eyes to avoid potentially seeing that dick a second time, and gestured vaguely at the carpet. Without invitation, Delinquent-kun and Futaba followed behind him and the detective tried not to shudder at the way dirt seemed to practically _bleed_ off the two of them onto his nice, clean floor.

                “Nice place you have here.” Futaba said without any inflection. “I’m really digging the whole ‘unlived in showroom’ vibe. It’s really lacking in personality. Perfect for someone like you.”

                [PLAYER NAME] pushed up his glasses and looked around, nodding in agreement.

                “Don’t you two have _anything_ better to do?”

                “Not really,” Protagonist-kun shook his head. “I’m on probation. Helping poor, virgin detectives cope with unwanted sex selfies is part of my rehabilitation.”

                “Yup, yup!” the girl curled her hand up in a fist, posing in determination. “And I’m here to make sure he doesn’t misbehave and try to make a move on certain law-officials!”

                “Here it is!” After much searching, Boss successfully found the only item out of place in the entire apartment. “No idea how I didn’t see it just lying there.” Sojiro looked down at the phone and then at the picture _on_ the phone, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

                “I know that dick,” he whispered, licking his lips.

                “E-excuse me?” Akechi choked out, stepping closer.

                “How could I forget it? It was back in spring of ’98. I was still working for the SFG and we, Toranosuke, Masayoshi, Wakaba and-Oh, what was her name? Akechi something. Gosh it’s been so long.” Sojiro smiled nostalgically. “We used to play DnD—well, not Toranosuke- ever Saturday until Masayoshi got way too invested in DMing and ruined it. Boats. Never dungeons or forests or _decent, fun_ locations. Just _boats._ We were always fighting on goddamned _boats._ ” Boss said bitterly before he frowned and blinked. “Where was I again?”

                “Spring of 1998?”

                 “Ah, right. Haha, I’ll never forget it. We were on a trip to Portugal when the plane crashed. There were only five of us and one snow mobile. The ladies won the fight and we men had to survive on our own in an empty ski lodge in the Russian wilderness for three days. Russia’s a cold place, kid. Colder than you’d kno—“

                “Sojirooooo!” Futaba whined. “We don’t have _time_ for a trip down memory lane! We’ve got to get back before Morgana murders Akira for being up past nine!”

                “It’s Saturday.”

                “Morgana’s a _cat,_ Sojiro! He doesn’t know that.”

                From somewhere inside MC’s bag, a muffled voice screeched “I am _not_ a cat!”

                “Alright, alright!” Sojiro sighed. “Sheesh.” He ran a hand through his lack of hair. “You can’t just rush dialogue-driven backstories, you know. I hadn’t even gotten to the plot-relevant part.”

                “Then skip the potatoes and get right to the meat. Chop-chop!” The girl waved her arms theatrically.

                “—and that’s why I only save contact info for pretty girls and never let men sit in my passenger seat.” Boss concluded.

                Akechi nodded dumbly, not entirely sure how else to respond to the abridged version of what had likely been a major turning point in the barista’s career, or the gut feeling that his bond with Sojiro had somehow strengthened.

                “Anyway,” Boss glanced over to his adopted daughter. “Give me your phone for a second.”

                With surprisingly no complaints, Futaba passed over her cell, and Sojiro forwarded Shido’s explicit photo to Futaba’s phone before using her phone to send it to himself. “I try to avoid having men in my phone history.” Coffee Dad explained, not that a question had been asked, since he’d been the only one with visible access to what he was doing. He then deleted the picture from both cells’ text history and handed them back to their respective owners. “You’re welcome, kid.”

                “Thank you,” Akechi beamed up at the man, his expression genuine.

               

                Once they were gone, Akechi’s cellphone vibrated in his palm, sending him into a frenzy before he realized that it was just his text tone.  He’d received a new text from Futaba which he smartly ignored along with several missed ones from Shido while he’d been loitering at LeBlanc. Nervously, he scrolled to the top of the conversation.

                **SHIDON’T** [18:48] if u were a boat

                **SHIDON’T** [18:48] u’d be the titanic

                **SHIDON’T** [18:49] becuz Im boutto make ur insides all WET

                **SHIDON’T** [18:49] and SINK u in my bed lolhahaha

                **SHIDON’T** [18:49] FCK U THAT WAS COMEDY GOLD

                **SHIDON’T** [18:50] I sent you my dick. send noodles

                **SHIDON’T** [18:50] new

                **SHIDON’T** [18:51] mewtwo

                **SHIDON’T** [18:51] NUDES send NUDES I wanta see u naked

                **SHIDON’T** [18:51] bucking autocorrt  
                **SHIDON’T** [18:52] fuck is a mewtwo

                **SHIDON’T** [18:56] just googled it. It’s one of them pokeman

                **SHIDON’T** [18:58] shit

                **SHIDON’T** [18:58] jus downloaded POKEgo app

                **SHIDON’T** [19:05] fukk how doI delete?

                **SHIDON’T** [19:07] answer me bitch

                **SHIDON’T** [19:10] fine. U can say goodbye to that payraise

**SHIDON’T** [19:10] fukcking whore

 

                Akechi felt distinctly uncomfortable as he messaged a reply.

 

                [22:02] I think you have the wrong number, sir.

                **SHIDON’T** [22:03] no I’m texting my bitch

                **SHIDON’T** [22:04] phone says that’s u

                [22:04] Um, Shido-san? This is Akechi.

**SHIDON’T** [18:06] I must have pocket-dialed you, Akechi. My mistake. Please disregard the previous messages. Good night.

                [22:07] I don’t think I’ll be able to ‘disregard’ the things I saw this evening, Shido-san. Next time you feel like pretending to be drunk and sexting, maybe you should double-check the caller ID.

 

                Akechi looked down at his phone in horror. He hadn’t meant to send that, but somehow his fingers moved without his consent. The detective was in the process of typing an apology and paused.

 

                [22:08] Wait.

                [22:08]  You have me in your phone as ‘My Bitch?’

                [22:08] ??????

                [22:09] ..Shido-san?

                **SHIDON’T** [22:29] Please come to my office at 9 am tomorrow morning.

               

 

                By the time he arrived outside Shido’s office the next day, most of the shock had worn off and dissolved into more of a simmering rage. That man had taken _everything_ from him. His childhood. His innocence. All his time and energy. And now Masayoshi Shido had taken away his dick-viewing virginity and day off, too. How much more would that damnable man take from him before he was satisfied?

                The vengeful teenager clenched his jaw and shifted his face into something much more disarmingly charming before knocking on the door.

                “Good morning, Shido-san, I—“ He paused. Instead of being behind his desk like he normally was, the politician greeted him at the door, and Goro felt like he’d been knocked off-balance. This marked the first time in his two years of visiting Shido at least once a week where he had gotten within a meter of the man without a desk between them. Akechi was slightly freaked out by the surrealistic situation, but far more freaked because they were standing next to each other and

_How is he so_ short? _With as much of a presence as he gives off, one would think he’d be at least six-feet. Most leaders tend to be taller. Success-especially in politics-- is almost entirely exclusive to those above six feet but he’s barely pushing—_

                And then Shido stepped forward so they were standing eye-level and Akechi was forced to re-evaluate his previous assessment.

_I’m 5’7”. Correction: I’m wearing the inserts, so I’m 5’10”. That would make Masayoshi Shido 5’10”. If he is taller than me, he is not short._

                And, before he could turn off his highly-analytical detective brain, he had already connected that observation with several more unfortunate conclusions.

_If Shido’s 5’10” and I’m 5’7” and my mother was probably average height, then the likelihood of me growing to be over six feet is… Let’s see, I’m seventeen. Boys stop growing at around twenty. That’s five inches in three years. But, taking into account that, at my last physical, the doctor said that I’m borderline-malnourished, and how little sleep I’ve been getting… No. I’ll be getting sleep again in a couple months, so that shouldn’t be an issue. But five inches in three years? How much milk would I have to dri--_

                “Akechi, I am really, really sorry about what happened yesterday. That was inexcusable and unprofessional,” Shido’s voice broke through the internal-musing. The politician bowed and seemed genuinely apologetic and Akechi had no idea what to make of it, so he just stood there, wondering whether he should be reveling at the sight of the man who had taken everything from him cowering before him, hunched over in submission. For a few seconds, he attempted to smirk ruthlessly and enjoy the moment, but this victory felt strangely… hallow.

                Shido looked at him hesitantly. “Can I treat you to lunch to make it up to you?”

                “Sure…” Free food was free food and Akechi wasn’t going to argue when he could stuff his face on someone else’s bill. Where ever Shido was taking him was bound to be incredibly high-quality and expensive; Shido was loaded and didn’t see a problem waving his cash around.

                “Wonderful. I know just the place.”

 

 

                ‘Just the place’ turned out to be a rinky, semi-run down IHOP on the outskirts of Shibuya. Not that Goro had a problem with IHOP. He loved pancakes. He loved them a lot. But he was also an orphaned teenager (illegally) living alone and most of his (illegally obtained) earnings went into a bank account he wouldn’t have access to for another year, so he was hungry, broke and terrible at cooking since he hadn’t had the time to learn. Most of his meals were of convenience. The only times he got to eat something decently _filling_ were the few occasions Sae actually agreed to eat out with him (which were becoming more and more of a rarity, much to his disappointment).

                But IHOP was IHOP and IHOP served pancakes, and pancakes were his favorite foodstuff, so Akechi wasn’t all that upset about it. He was, however, a little more than slightly irked that Shido had shoved one of his secretary’s fashion glasses onto his face and insisted he wear one of his leather jackets and a pair of jeans instead of his typical argyle. Shido not-so-subtly _hated_ his sweater vests (which was probably the only thing motivating Akechi to wear them in the summer, if he was truly honest with himself). Across from him, Shido’s disguise consisted of an authentic-looking wig, casual clothing, and contacts, which, surprisingly, made him almost completely unrecognizable.  

                “---without the potatoes. What about you, Akechi?” Both the waitress and the politician turned to the detective.

                “I’ll have a glass of water, the” Akechi’s eyes locked on to the most expensive item on the page. “—big steak omelette, a bowl of fruit and a short stack of your red velvet—“,

                “Eggcellent choice,” Shido nodded in approval, but Akechi wasn’t done yet.

                “--New York cheesecake, pumpkin, chocolate chip, blueberry, strawberry banana, birthday cake, cinnamon roll, eggnog, Rooty Tooty and original buttermilk pancakes, please.”

                The waitress gawked at him. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can combine flavors like that…”        

                “No, no,” the detective waved it off. “I would like a short stack of _each_.”

                “I see,” she said and headed for the kitchen, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence at booth #7.

                “Since we’ve got a few moments to ourselves, there was something I’ve been meaning to ask you, Shido-san.” Akechi needed to fill the tension with something. Anything.

                “I told you not to call me that in public.”

                “My mistake,” he grinned softly to hide the way he couldn’t stop fiddling with his hands under the table and, with confidence he didn’t truly possess, blurted out the first conversation-starter he could think of.

                “What are your thoughts on the Phantom Thieves? Do you think their actions are those of _justice_?”

                Shido squinted, his mouth opened slightly as if he _wanted_ to ask if he’d heard the teen correctly, but was too afraid that the answer might be ‘yes’ and his hired hitman just tried to start up a conversation about the group of bozos that were threatening everything they’d worked for.

                “Ah, sorry. That was meant to be a joke. Haha,” Akechi smiled apologetically and ruffled his hair to hide the way his expression momentarily contorted into one of burning self-hatred before he could stop it. He returned his hand to lap, cranked the charisma dial up to 100 and tried again.

                “Do you watch the news?”

                “Akechi.”

                “Ah, right. Of course you do.”    

                _None of my usual pleasantries will work_ , Akechi realized. _I talk to him daily. If I ask about the weather, he’ll think I forgot about conversation about how rain effects the Metaverse we had the other day. If I ask about anything on television, he’ll think I’ve been slacking instead of working. He regularly checks in on my grades and reads the transcripts after all my interviews. This is bad. I’ve already extinguished all opportunities for surface-level conversations._

                And so, in a final act of desperation, he risked it all.

                “Are you naturally bald?”

                The politician took instant and immediate offense. “Do you think I’m bald because I _want_ to be?”

                Akechi held up gloved hands in mock-surrender. “I meant no disrespect, Shi- _sir._ Simply put, I haven’t seen many bald men who are able to pull it off—it takes certain facial proportions and skin quality to make it work, after all. I couldn’t help but wonder if your baldness was a conscious decision or not.”

                “I was grey by twenty-five and bald by thirty.”

                “Y-you had grey hair at _twenty-five?_ ” the teen celebrity spluttered.

                “And was bald by thirty.” Shido nodded mournfully.

                “B-bald by thirty?” Akechi repeated, terrified at what this meant for his own beautiful, bronze mane of luscious locks and silky strands. Grey by twenty-five, and gone by thirty, if Shido’s genetics kicked in.

                The waitress finally returned with Shido’s coffee, Akechi’s water and the newly-appointed shift manager.

                “Good afternoon, gentlemen! There was a bit of a mishap on our end, so I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Do you mind telling me your order again?”

                “Not at all!” The detective beamed up at her as if he had not been panicking about hair loss thirty seconds earlier, eyes filled with child-like innocence, smile practically radiating positivity. Shido snorted. “I’ll have the big steak omelette, some fruit and a short stack of your red velvet, New York cheesecake, pumpkin, chocolate chip, blueberry, strawberry banana, birthday cake, cinnamon roll, eggnog, Rooty Tooty and original buttermilk pancakes.”

                The manager stared at him. She’d stopped writing after chocolate chip. “Sir, are you aware that a small stack contains three pancakes?”

                Akechi nodded enthusiastically, lips upturned ever-so slightly. “Of course! Traditionally, short stacks were served with one to two pancakes. IHOP, however, has five pancakes in its regular serving and _three_ in its short-stack. Thanks to the success of the chain, many other restaurants serving pancakes also began serving small-stacks of threes.”

                “…And you want a short stack of _every_ pancake on the menu?”

                “Not every pancake,” Akechi corrected, holding up a finger. “I do not want your harvest grain and nut pancakes.”

                 “Just to be clear,” Ms. Manager offered a tight-lipped smile. “You’re ordering every flavor on the menu except for harvest grain. A grand total of…” She paused to calculate. “ _Thirty-three_ pancakes?”

                “Thirty-three pancakes for _me._ He—“ he motioned at the man across from him. “—ordered a small stack of harvest grain and nut pancakes as a side dish to his omelette.”

                The manager visibly struggled to keep her hands on her pen and notepad and off Akechi’s throat. She glanced from the teenager to Shido and back again. “So you--- collectively. This booth.—are ordering a short stack of _every pancake on the menu?”_

“Yes.”

                “Can you _eat_ that many pancakes?”

                “I had a pretty late lunch, so I don’t think I could eat more than two.”

                “They why,” she ground out. “Are you ordering _thirty-three pancakes?”_

                “Because I can!” Akechi said as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.

                She turned to Shido helplessly. “Sir, are you sure it’s alright for your son—“

                “Not my son.”

                “He’s not my dad.”

                “— _young friend_ to order this many pancakes he can’t eat?”

                Finally, finally, the politician spoke up. “I don’t see the problem. We’re paying customers, aren’t we? Shut up and do your job.”            

                The shift manager forced a smile and marched off.

                “The service has gone to shit since the last time I came here,” Shido murmered.

                While they were waiting for their food to arrive, the store owner walked in through the front door and immediately locked eyes on Akechi’s cheerful face.

                “God fucking damn it,” he cursed and made a beeline for booth #7. The man he didn’t recognize looked incredibly irate, not that the store owner could blame him; the boy sitting across from him was a regular at the Shibuya IHOP, and not in the good way. When he first started showing up a couple years before, the teen came alone once or twice a week in the evenings and ate his pancakes in silence. The staff probably would have pitied him, if they hadn’t been so afraid of the dangerous, angry aura he’d put off as he stabbed his fork into his pancakes with unnecessary brutality. That had been a little unsettling to deal with at first, but after two weeks or so, they’d learned to just stick the kid in a corner and he would eat his pancakes, leave, and that’d be the end of it.  But then, after a month of moody brooding, something _happened_ and the teenager’s personality and actions took a 180 and became infinitely _worse._ Teenage Angst sat in the corner staring at the wall and aggressively talking to someone nobody else could see, but Teenage Detective Prince shimmied his way into booths with people he didn’t know and stole pancakes off the plates of paying patrons all the while smiling charismatically and starting conversations about the weather. Six months ago, the store owner had laid down the law and he’d been so sure he’d gotten rid of the little urchin for good but now the menace was _back_.

                “I apologize for the trouble,” the owner bowed curtly to Shido and turned to Akechi. “You must really want me to file that restraining order, kid.”

                Shido frowned. “What’s all this about?”

                “It would seem that I’m unwelcome here.” Akechi looked at the table sadly.

                “That’s putting it lightly.” The owner murmured and grabbed the teenager by the arm. “C’mon, brat. Let’s stop bothering the nice man and go outside.”

                “H-hey, wait a minute! What about my pancakes?”

                “You mean _his_ pancakes?”

                “They’re mine! I ordered them!” Akechi argued as he was dragged out of the booth.

                “On _his_ dime, right? Give it up. The gig's over.”

                “What’s all this about?” The politician stood up.

                “This one,” The stored owner tightened his grip on Akechi’s arm. “Has made quite a name for himself around these parts.” He shrugged over to the wall by the front door where, sure enough, a black-and-white picture of Akechi’s distraught face was the only item pinned to the wall beneath the word “BANNED.”    

                “This—this is unreasonable!” Akechi struggled to get free. “I’m an innocent victim in all of this.”

                “You stole pancakes from a _toddler!”_ The owner spat.

                “But.. I… I didn’t want them to go to waste…”

                “What the hell, Akechi?”

                Both owner and detective looked over and found an incredibly disgusted looking Shido.

                “You stole pancakes from a _baby_?”

                “I… no… Shido-san…”

                “That’s not my name.”

                “Sir, it’s not…” the detective’s voice filled with emotion. “I just..."  
              

                "Sit down, Akechi. I don't care what you do in your free time as long as you do your work. And you," he turned to the owner, eyes narrowed. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let go of my _subordinate_ so that we can enjoy our lunch."

                "Wait," the owner looked between the two of them. "You actually came here with him?" He let go of Akechi's arm and snarled. "I hope you enjoy the meal, Pancake Boy, because this is the _last_ time you're having one here."

               

 

                Thirty minutes later, Akechi's pancakes hadn't arrived yet. Neither had Shido's omelette and the politician was hungry and mad but mostly just hungry and he abruptly stood up. "We're leaving."

                "But what about-"

                "The service here is deplorable and my time is an expense these simpletons can not afford." He stormed off, with a upset detective hot on his heels.

                Well, at the very least they’d managed to avoid making too much of a scene, Akechi thought bitterly. Honestly, he was surprised that Shido had been willing to just walk away without at least threatening to sue--

                “Just so you know!”

_Oh boy, here we go.  
_

                Shido stopped, five feet away from the door, turned and addressed all present patrons and employees of the Shinjuku IHOP. “I am giving this facility one out of five stars on Yelp. My experience here was terrible and I sincerely hope this place sinks so low that it will never be excavated. You will never get my business again and I will tell everyone in my social circle to avoid this dump.”

                He nodded over at his subordinate. “Don’t forget the tip.”

                “Ah, it completely slipped my mind.” Akechi fumbled through his--Shidos’s-- coat pockets.

                “Are you that fucking dense, Akechi? _Take the goddamned jar.”_ Shido hissed under his breath.

                “What?!” The teenager looked from his boss to the tip jar on the counter. “I-I can’t! That’s illegal!”

                He received a raised eyebrow. “Don’t make me repeat myself, boy. Time is _money_ and they just wasted _forty-five_ minutes of _mine._ How else can society be steered in the right direction if people are allowed to just continue onward without consequences for their wrong doings?”

                Akechi stole the tip jar and and followed Shido out the door. No one had lunch that afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued?


End file.
